


I Don't Think We're in Kansas Anymore

by huntressofdreams



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: POV Multiple, Superwholock, WIP, huon particles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 15:24:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1609961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntressofdreams/pseuds/huntressofdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean are hunting a strange man in a blue box who shows up out of nowhere at the most inconvenient times. Sherlock Holmes is also trying to find this man, who is completely oblivious to all of them, and thinks he is going to have a nice vacation with his companion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Think We're in Kansas Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: can you write a superwholock fic?  
> Dean sat on the hood of the Impala, staring up at the sky. He was losing himself in his mind, when suddenly he heard an odd noise. Sort of . . . whooshing and wheezing. He called out, “Sammy?” as he reached for his gun, eyes darting around. Sam walked out of the shack they were staying in to see his brother staring at a rapidly appearing blue telephone box. “What the hell is that?”

“Alright, pack it in,” Dean said, tossing a bag onto a bed, claiming it as his own. “We’re getting an early start.”

“What for?” Sam asked in reply. “Dean, we’re staying in town all week!”

“So? We still got work to do.” Dean laid down on the bed and pounded the pillow into shape. Crossing his arms, he leaned against it and told his brother, once again, to go to sleep. With an annoyed sigh, he listened.

Sam woke to the sound of a cuss. When he noticed what had caused it, he bolted up. “Dean, what are you doing?!”

Dean glanced over his shoulder and quickly turned back. “Good, you’re up,” he said. “Can you get this damn thing to work?”

“Dean–“ Sam reached out and took the laptop from him. “Hitting it is not gonna do any good.”

“I dunno, it might make me feel better,” the man in question said. He sat down and popped the top off a beer bottle.

Sam sighed at his brother’s ignorance, but left it alone. “What are you trying to do, anyway?”

“You know that asshat we’ve been tracking?”

Sam’s fingers stilled as his brain ran laps. “The uh . . . the doctor? In that box?”

“Yeah. Well, you know all that shit that’s been going on in London these days? The uh, the Christmas star? And those . . . uh . . .”

“Daleks?” Sam supplied.

“Yeah! Those things.” Dean stood and paced behind his brother, eventually coming to rest at his shoulder. “Anyways, the . . . Doctor, the doctor – he’s usually at London when he shows up, right? Or somewhere in the UK.” Dean poked at a few keys, trying to help. Sam walked at his fingers and shooed him away.

“Right. So . . . What? You think they’re connected?”

“They have to be, don’t they? If they’re not . . .” He trailed off and sipped his beer.

“There!” Sam rotated the laptop and pushed it in Dean’s direction. “Next time, try not to hit my laptop when you get mad at it, okay?”

* * *

“John!”

“Yeah?” John stuck his head around the corner of the kitchen.

“Oh. How long have you been there?” Sherlock continued before John could answer. “No matter. Hand me your laptop?”

Giving Sherlock’s turned back a look that would make a sane man run, John walked over to the coffee table and handed to laptop to Sherlock, all of two feet away.

He ignored – or maybe just didn’t see – John’s glare, and started poking at keys.

“So what are you doing this time, then?” John said, dropping into his chair.

“Looking,” was all Sherlock said in answer. He twisted, his robe flaring out around him, and flopped down on the couch. John’s laptop landed neatly on his lap.

John waited, but that was all he said. “You’re doing it again,” John sighed.

Sherlock glanced up, his brow furrowed. “Doing what?” His thick accent and severe lack of sleep turned the “what” into a “woot.”

John shook his head with another sigh. “What are you looking for?”

“It’s not a what, John, it’s a who.” To Sherlock, that seemed to be all that needed to be said. He went back to prodding the laptop, like a surgical tool.

“Sherlock,” John persisted. He didn’t answer. The man didn’t even seem to hear him. With another shake of his head, John went to prepare some tea, hoping he wouldn’t find an eyeball or something worse in the kettle.

* * *

“Where to next?” the Doctor said with a lopsided grin. He stripped his coat and tossed it over the railing.

Rose, a blonde beauty, followed suit and threw her nineteenth century wool on top of his long coat. “Hmm . . . How about the states? Haven’t been there.”

“Sure ya have!” The Doctor jumped around and pulled on different levers.

“That doesn’t count,” Rose laughed. “We were underneath it.” She walked behind him and watched his red converse dance from side to other side of the consol.

He looked up in time to see her watching and grinned. “Well . . .” Rose shook her head at him, the child that he was. “Alright. When and where? America’s a big place with a lot of history – and even more future.” He tried to keep a straight face – he really tried – but the grin seemed to grow on its own. It started in his eyes. As they glowed brighter, the corners of his lips twitched up, and didn’t stop twitching until his cheeks hurt.

Rose looked away. His smile was contagious, and if she stared at it for too long, she might catch it. “Surprise me, then.”

“Alright! I’ll take you to a time you’d never expect.” Oh, great, Rose though. Now he’ll take me to the dinosaur age. Or even better, some nasty plague.

“Modern-day Montana, middle of the summer,” he said instead. “Great place, you’ll love it.” The Doctor ran about, twisting and pulling and pushing and whacking. Rose tried to keep track of his movements, but he wouldn’t stay in one place long enough for her to figure out just what he was doing. At long last, he reached for the final lever. “Allon-sy!” he shouted, and pulled it with a little too much flourish.

* * *

Dean grabbed his beloved Colt and stuffed it into his waistband. He wasn’t going far, but better safe than sorry. He took a quick glance at his brother – who hadn’t bothered looking up from his laptop in the last hour – before heading out.

Dean hopped up onto the hood of the Impala and leaned back against the wind shield. When things got rough and he could barely stand to hear himself think, he’d sit here with a cold

one and watch the stars. Losing himself in his mind was easy when there was nothing but him, the cool metal of his baby below, and the sky above.

He drew patterns in the twinkling lights, busying himself with nothing. He almost didn’t notice the noise when it came. He definitely didn’t miss the box appearing front of him, though.

“Sammy!” he shouted. Dean had barely let the word leave his mouth before hopping off the Impala and pulling his gun.

Sam ran – well, more like stumbled – out of the motel room and came to halt at his brother’s side. He stood ready for action, but merely stared at the rapidly appearing blue box. “What the hell?”

* * *

“After you, m’lady,” the Doctor said, swinging his arm and bowing low. Rose just laughed and made her way to the door.

It busted open. In stormed two extremely tall – and, admittedly, handsome – boys, both armed. They paused in the doorway, arms dropping. They were back up quickly, but their eyes still wandered the space ship.

“Americans,” the Doctor muttered. “Always with the guns.”

“Nice wheels, Doc,” the shorter of the two said. He didn’t seem as phased as his friend by the whole “bigger on the inside” concept.

“Thank you, but you weren’t invited.”

In response, the taller one reached behind him with his foot and kicked the door shut.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rose shouted at him. “Get out!”

A familiar, welcome (to Rose, at least) noise started up. But it wasn’t welcome right now. It was the sound of the engine.

“Doctor, what are you doing?!” Rose exclaimed, turning on him. He wasn’t anywhere near the console, but he was getting closer to it.

“It’s not me, I didn’t do it!” the Doctor insisted. He pushed and pulled at things surrounding the blue light powering the TARDIS.

After a minute, the TARDIS calmed, settling at a location.

Rose pushed past the Americans, and, ignoring the Doctor’s warning, threw open the door.

“Ah,” said a man, his dark hair tousled, his smirk almost daunting. “Thought that might work.”

 

 


End file.
